Boutique of Memories
by Illusions-chan
Summary: Pull out, measure, cut, snip, and wrap. This was the mantra drilled into the ebony haired girl ever since she was a child. There is always a rainbow after the strom. Hell broke from Pandora's box, but hope was also locked in it.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer- Rurouni Kenshin and its characters belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki, not me.

* * *

**Boutique of Memories - Part I**

Pull out, measure, cut, snip, and wrap.

This was the mantra drilled into the ebony haired girl ever since she was a child. Her tiny hands carefully cut a piece of blue ribbon and tied it around the bouquet before handing it the woman standing before and accepting the charge.

This is Makimachi Misao, a twenty-four year-old young woman who owned and operated her own, well her deceased grandfather's, flower shop. She sighed as her deep, sea-foam blue eyes stared out the window, at the sunny sky and the happy people walking past her windows.

She used to crave and beg to visit her grandfather's shop. She remembered how care free life had been when she would pretend the aisles of the shop were an enchanted forest. Remorsefully, the girl brushed a strand of her lengthy hair out of her face.

And then he had arrived. It was like a perfect ending to her fairy tale in the enchanted forest. She was the princess, lost in a forest, and he. He was the valiant knight, the handsome prince that would come to her rescue time and time again.

And she remembered, with a sorrowful smile, that he would always bring her flowers. Every single day.

"Ohayo Makimachi-san." Misao snapped out of her reverie to see a short, scarlet haired, young man approach her.

"Ohayo Himura-san," she greeted in reply. The male smiled, his violet eyes filled with warmth and compassion. "The usual?"

"No," he answered, surprising the girl. "I'd like a bouquet of red gladiolus as well, de gozaru." Misao smiled and nodded as she began to put together the first bouquet. The first was just plain white plum blossoms. These were for his ex-wife, as Misao had come to learn. They had never really been in love. It had been more of a comfort situation. However, this wasn't the case for his wife today. Kamiya Kaoru, or Himura Kaoru as she was known, was a beautiful kendo instructor that had captured the redhead's heart.

Misao tied a yellow ribbon around the white blossoms before laying the bouquet in front of Himura. She then began on the second one, the one for Kaoru. This one was yellow roses, for they were her favorite flower. As she taped the wrapping, Himura began to talk.

"Those gladioli are actually for Megumi-dono," he began. Megumi was a cancer specialist married to Himura's best friend, Sagara Sanosuke. "She gave birth earlier today to a baby boy." Misao smiled a smile that didn't reach her eyes, but no one noticed.

"Really? Then, please give her my congratulations as well Himura-san." He nodded. Misao carefully placed the gladiolus in the wrapping. Taping the cover shut, she finished with a cerulean ribbon. She then handed all three bouquets to Himura. He took out the amount and handed it to her before wishing her a good day and exiting. Misao watched him leave, watched the light strike the scarlet hair as he stepped into the sun, and watched as his gait was that same confident stride that **_he_** had. Sighing, Misao turned around, grabbing a spray bottle. It was time to water the plants.

* * *

It was raining. Misao stared, tracing the path of a particular droplet with her eyes. The day had gone from sunny and bright to rainy and dark in only an hour, she mused quietly. It was just like that day. The day he left. 

It had been a shock. He was there one day, and then, the next he was gone. It had been a Wednesday. They always met at the flower shop on Wednesdays. She had waited. And waited. And waited, and still he hadn't come. Finally, she ran to his house. The gates were locked. The curtains were shut. The sign stating "_Shinomori_" was gone. He was gone.

She had come home a few hours later, drenched in rain and her own tears. She hadn't even responded to her cousins' reprimands. Quietly, she had just trudged up the stairs and closed herself in her room. She would stay in there for five more days.

The first day, she had just cried. Not knowing why, she had spent the day wallowing in tears. Her surrogate grandfather and her cousins had tried everything, but she just wouldn't stop.

The second day, she gained the knowledge, and she grieved. It hurt. It hurt more than anything. This time, her family let her grieve.

The third day, she tried to understand why. She looked through every picture, every memory. Had she don't something to drive him away? She didn't know.

The fourth day, she let go. He was gone, and she finally understood that. Why? She didn't think she'd ever find, or ever want to know.

The fifth day, she moved on. She picked up her pieces and glued them back together.

"Misao-san?" Once again, the girl snapped out of her reverie to stare into light blue eyes and mousy brown hair.

"Seta-san, what can I get you?" Before her stood a young man that seemed harmless. He had been coming to the flower shop for ten months now. Everyday he would strike up a friendly conversation with the girl, trying to open her up. But Misao never responded. She kept with the conversation until it took at personal turn. She'd then withdraw and wish the young man 'goodbye' or 'have a nice day'. Today, he began the same way as always.

"I'd like a bouquet of Madonna lilies." Misao nodded and began to put together his order. She remembered once, a while back, he had tried to buy her flowers. And Misao, she had just replied by saying **_'I hate flowers.'_**

It was true. She had begun to hate flowers after **_he_** left. She never liked them after that. So what was she doing, running flower shop? Hell if she knew.

"You seem troubled, Misao-san." The girl stared at the male looking at her. Sighing, she put a smile on her face.

"I'm fine, Seta-san," she replied, as she stepped out from the behind the counters to get the roll of tape out of her other apron. But as she passed him, the male grabbed her, pulling her to face him, and smashed his lips against hers. Misao's eyes widened in shock. Pulling her hands out of his grip, she pushed him off of her, and backed away, wiping off her mouth. The man stared at her in regretful shock.

"I'm sorry Misao-san. I didn't---"

"Just leave, Seta-san. Just leave." Misao handed him the bouquet, glaring at him all the while. The man nodded and left, leaving a few bills on the counter. Misao gasped, keeping her emotions on hold. How **_could_** he? How **dare** he?

Misao sighed as she took off her apron. It was late, nearly eleven. Walking over to the door, she switched the sign from open to closed. She then picked up the apron and hung it. Grabbing the spray bottle, she walked around the shop, doing her last round for the night. This was her favorite part really. It was the only time she could walk and remember every little thing that had happened in the shop. Like her first kiss. Gods, her **_first kiss_**.

It had been cloudy, foggy, and plain horribly cold. So she decided to steal **his** book and run off. It then turned into a game of cat and mouse. And he was relentless. He finally caught her then, in the darkest corner of the store, underneath the rose arcs. And he decided to punish her. And she, she just watched as his face descended towards hers and his lips caught hers.

It was beautiful, the wonderful thing she had ever experienced. They were cocooned in their own world, surrounded by the scent of roses and falling petals. His lips were soft and he tasted of coconut pocky. It felt like it lasted forever. If only it had.

Misao sighed as she returned to the counter. Grabbing her jacket, she stopped as her eyes fell on the necklace hanging on a pin. It was a plain black cord with a sliver pendant. The pendant was kanji, and it said his name; _Aoshi_. Smiling sadly, she grabbed it and strung it around her neck. She then walked over to the door and stepped outside, locking it shut.

Misao walked off then, into the night, wearing his name around her neck.

_**"There is always a rainbow after the storm."**_

* * *

_(A/N): This is probably my first time doing a darker-angst entry for a challenge. _

_Anyway, this is the first part, focusing on Misao. The second is Aoshi. I'll get it up soon. _

_A big thank you goes out to Zelianyu for beta reading this for me. Her comments were so helpful in the editing in the revision of this part. Thank you so much!_

_Well, leave me some feedback!_


	2. Part II

Disclaimer - Rurouni Kenshin and Co. belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki.

* * *

**Boutique of Memories - Part II**

Tick, tick, tick.

The pendulum swung back and forth, giving life to the dead room. A tall male stood by the windows, staring out over the dark city and its neon lights.

'What was it?' he asked himself. 'Two? Three?' He turned to face the ticking clock and its swinging pendulum. Its dark, black stained hands read 'four o'clock'. The male sighed then, walking over to his desk, and falling into the large chair. Its leather ripples conformed to his broad shoulders, his defined back, and his narrow hips and waist.

Aoshi Shinomori, a twenty-six year-old young man, was one of the wealthiest men in Japan. Owning the merged companies of K-O-pro and S-style, he could and had every luxury on the planet, and yet he didn't want nor buy any of them. His wife did.

Kami-sama, his wife. Just the idea sounded ludicrous. But it was true. He was a married man. But he sure wished he wasn't.

He had never imagined getting married. As a child, he had been introverted and aloof, unconnected to the world. And then in his second to last year of grade school, he had met her. "Ocean eyes," he had called her, referring to those big, sea-foam blue eyes of hers. He wanted to lose himself in those eyes, and he pretty much had. How, when, or where, he had fallen underneath her spell. Her grandfather had called her _'a fearie of life_'. He whole-heartedly agreed. There was no one like her. No one.

Suddenly, his cellular phone rang. Startled, Aoshi picked the small device and flicked it open.

"Moshi-moshi?" He cursed as his voice came out hoarse and scratchy.

"Ohayo Aoshi." Aoshi relaxed then. It was only Battousai or Himura Kenshin as most people knew him.

"Ohayo."

"The final documents have been signed. They'll be official be the end of the day." A feeling akin to happiness rose in Aoshi's chest at hearing that. He had waited so long. "Congratulations. It's been a long time."

"Aa." It had. Kami-sama, it _had_.

"I wish I could bring you the papers myself, but Megumi-dono is in the hospital and you know how Sano is." Aoshi chuckled slightly. "So I will have them sent by courier as soon as possible."

"Thank you."

"I'm glad to be of help, Aoshi." Aoshi tried to smile as he murmured a goodbye to the man. Kenshin was not only his lawyer, but one of his closest friends. That man had been on his side when he been married to when he had broke away form his father's orders. Aoshi didn't know what he would have done with out the quiet man's help all these years.

* * *

It was raining now, raining like the day his world had come crashing in on him. He had never been really happy. Pain was something he had dealt with as a child when his mother had died.

His father, after his mother's death, had remarried and brought into Aoshi's life a girl, three years younger than him, by the name of Megumi. Yes, they hadn't gotten along at first, Aoshi ignoring the girl, but over the years she had grown on him. Aoshi cared for the girl and had finally given her away to Sagara Sanosuke, a popular radio-dj who liked to sometimes teach self-defense at the Kamiya dojo.

However, Aoshi had not gotten on with his father's new wife. He had snubbed the woman, disliking her for taking his mother's place in his home. But she could never take it in his heart. Aoshi had closed off his heart, creating hard, stone walls around it.

Aoshi picked up his cellular phone then, calling in a random number.

"Yes, I'd like bouquet of pink gladioli to be sent a Sagara Megumi. The card? Just write _'from Onnisan_'. Hai. Send the bill to Shinomori. Arigatou." He flipped it close then, ending the transaction. Sometimes, he wondered how life would have been if his mother hadn't died, if his father hadn't remarried, and if he hadn't met her.

**_Her_**. Somehow, just that word seemed to ground him. But she. She had been a hurricane when he had first met her. Small and petite with those beautiful, big eyes. He had met when her when his grandfather had sent him to learn to meditate from her grandfather. He was too unstable according to his grandfather. Aoshi smiled a ghost of a smile. His grandfather hadn't known that a hurricane of a girl would be the soothing factor for his grandson.

"Shinomori-sama, I need to sign these papers and look over these packets. Also, a Sagara Sanosuke has called twice, asking for you." Aoshi sighed. It was time for work.

* * *

It was late. Quite late. Nearly midnight. Aoshi sighed, getting out of his chair and walking over to the windows. He could see her boutique from here.

Kami-sama, he hadn't been in there since the day his father announced his marriage. The day had crushed him. He was to be married in an effort to save his family's company through a merger. He had hated his father for it.

Giving her up had been the hardest thing ever. He remembered how he had slipped into her room at an ungodly hour of the night. And he had just sat there, watching her quietly as she slept peacefully. Barely touching her as he traced her features, from the crown of her head to the protruding bones of her hips to the soft calluses on her feet. He had kissed her for the last time as the sun's rays seeped through the curtains.

Alright. He lied. He had entered the store once after. But only once. He had come in on impulse, but hid into the shadows when his eyes fell on the young man talking to her. The boy was trying to make an impression to get her affections, but wasn't succeeding from what Aoshi could see. The boy then tried to buy her flowers, and her head snapped up.

Aoshi was shocked by the cold, hardness of those beautiful eyes. _'I hate flowers.'_ Those had been the words she had bitten out coolly.

And he knew why. It was all because of him. All because of him. The guilt of that had kept him away from the boutique since.

But now. Now he was free. Moonlight shined on the packet of papers that sat on Aoshi's desk. And they were signed divorce papers. And now Aoshi wanted to make things right. Walking over to his desk, he opened a drawer and reached in, pulling out a necklace of leather cord and a metal pendant. Her pendant. The silver metal glowed as he stared at the kanji spelling out her name. _Misao. _He had hope now.

Aoshi turned then, pulling the cord around his neck. He had hope now and he was going to believe in it.

"**_Hell broke from Pandora's box, but hope was also locked in it."

* * *

_**

(_A/N): Okay. Here it is. The ending. _

_I know it isn't much of an ending, but I felt that it just better leaving it open for the readers. _

_I really do you like it. I tried to make Aoshi not only dark, but also I wanted to show how much he loved Misao. I know the whole him-watching-her-sleep-tracing-her-features sounds a bit stalker-ish, but that was his last time seeing her. _

_I do have an idea for separate 'epilogue'. If I do get enough requests, I will write it._

_ Again, a big thank you to Zelainyu for beta-ing this for me._

So please, leave me your comments and suggestions. 

_Till we meet again, JA!_


End file.
